The walls were plain, and dull. To keep my new senses from over stimulation. The cups of tea were brought in reinforced cups of unmarked steel, to keep my strength from crushing anything else. I had become quite acquainted with this room of mine, and now it felt like a prison cell. Or a room in an asylum. Even when Elizabeth entered my room once wearing red upon her lips. It stuck out the most vibrant hue that I'd ever laid eyes upon. It flowered upon her lips like the finest conception of red that ever existed, the brilliance of the idea of a rose could not hold a flame to it.
It was in that moment of fixation, hypnotised by this, one, meagre, example of brilliant colour, that I knew I was not ready to go outside. As much as it pulled against my very fibre to go outside. To finally be so close to my beloved forest, my home. I couldn't. It wasn't safe.
But even the potential of madness seemed preferable to this scratching, mind numbing boredom.
"You need to feed." Bethany's voice rang painfully loud in my ears, calling me from my thoughts to the cup that still sat warmly in my grip. I'd been swirling it absentmindedly. It's scent was intoxicating, and I'd be lying if it didn't cause me to unnervingly salivate at the crimson liquid. It called me to the darkness of it's depths, like a primordial siren song beckoning my heart to its ruinous shore.
"Don't call it that." I meekly replied, doing my best to tear my gaze from the cup. Bethany gave an exasperated sigh in response.
"Listen, buttercup." She began striding forward, closer to the edge of the bed until she loomed somewhat over me, like a disapproving parent. "Elizabeth? Simon? They have patience, and sympathy for you. Qualities that, in this particular situation, I have neither of. There are three things that are going to happen if you don't drink. First, there is a very real chance that you will starve to death. Normal food is no longer an option for you. Suck it up. Two, there is an even realer chance that I am going to force feed you, and as hot as food play sounds; I abhor it when its a chore. This sounds like a chore. And thirdly, if you don't feed. You're going to go in to a Sanguine coma. A Sanguine coma is different from the standard coma's you'd expect to find in your cookie cutter, human hospitals. In short, your conscious thought will shut down, and you'll go feral. Literally hunting down the nearest thing with a pulse, and ripping it to shreds. Guess what the nearest living thing is? Those living in your house. So buck up, put your big boy pants on, and drink."
As much as I glared at her, her words did cause me to sink somewhat further into the bed, and it wasn't solely because she seemed to be talking so loud. Although it didn't help. I eyed the cup once again, looking to Bethany, then the cup, then Bethany again.
"Please, Avery." She said, her words echoing a solemn vulnerability that made me question as to whether I heard it crack or not. "I cannot allow you to go. Not like that."
My lips quivered on the cup, still frighteningly inviting and warm. The scent stronger now that it was closer to my nose, I could practically see it curling a mischievous finger in my direction. As I drew on whatever reserves of strength I could allow, bolstering myself. I drank.
It was one of the strangest sensations I have ever encountered. It dragged me forward, as if to pull me into the cup and swallow me whole, begging me to drown within the depths of it's rubied bottom. I guzzled and drank, hungry. Every drop spiked ecstasy, as it unfurled its fingers when it reached my stomach. Blossoming outwards with a warmth that wrapped its arms around my spine and planted flowers. It reached upwards, caressing my shoulders like the unfurling of wings. I was awash on midsummer shorelines, tentatively swaddled by the radiant swathes of an evening sun, lulling me into relaxed shudders of euphoric starscapes beknighted with crescent moons. It was good.
I found my tongue, lapping at my top lip and it was only the child-like giggle of Bethany that my trance was broken, and I found myself once more. Guilt and shame plucked it's sorrowful tune within my heart, especially when a new feeling also settled itself there. The want for more.
"No one ever forgets their first." She said coyly, grinning. Her graceful superiority had returned, her demeanour flaunting itself proudly with every practised movement. I felt good, like a wellspring of energy and life had erupted within me. I felt stronger than I had done for years, healthier, like moving mountains was no different than moving pebbles. It was all the same gesture, one after another.
I was distracted from inspecting my hand, when the weight of the bed I had been resting in shifted. Her movements over flowing with the same perfect poise of a cat, crawling to the target of it's predation, yet even as she softly lowered the hand that still held the cup and straddled my waist, I did not respond.
Her kisses were stolen upon my lips, her tongue thieving whatever blood remained, before she nuzzled at my neck, gilding me with goosebumps. Hands grasped beneath my shirt, denying my heart from settling from the experience that had just passed, as more kisses darted along my jaw and settling again on my lips.
"It's good your strength has come back, I've been so bored." She hummed sweetly, as her hips began to rock back and fourth, rubbing against the fabric of my jeans.
"No" I whispered quietly, turning my head from hers to no avail as she nipped at my ear lobe and chased my lips with her mouth. Her fingers began threading through the hair on the back of my head.
"I said no. I don't want to." I reaffirmed, snapping my eyes to hers only to meet a playful smirk. An anger boiled within me, restrained as it was.
"No? Something else would disagree" She grinned, diving to my neck once again with a smattering of kisses as she moved her arm forward; slipping a hand down the front of my trousers and grasping the hardening of my body with the breadth of her palm. My hands were at her arms in an instant, giving a firm shake. She recoiled somewhat surprised, a glint of recognition sparking within her as the anger of my own expression snapped before her.
There was a drawn out second of pure, static, silence, where neither of us did anything. My hands still holding her arms as we both processed the situation, before she crawled backwards throwing her legs over the side of the bed, standing and straightening her dress with her hands.
"Guess I'm only useful when you're angsty." She mentioned, her words not quite hitting home with me, but I could feel the guilt they would yet cause. "That's okay I suppose, it happens. We used each other in hindsight, perhaps I was just hoping to use one another one last time."
"Bethany I--"
"No. Don't say it. I do not care for whatever apology you have to say, Avery. Especially as you have nothing to apologise for. I used you because I was bored, you used me because you were broken and hoped that shoving yourself somewhere warm would fix you. That or a hit of serotonin was better than being alone. Regardless: there's nothing else." She said, staring down at me with eyes that twinkled with moonlit power. There was a hint of finality to her look. It was regal and powerful. But there was something else behind those eyes, a wound that I could tell was hurting.
She made towards the door, twisting the handle with a squeak I registered but didn't flinch at, having grown used to it.
"Avery. At the very least, I wanted to thank you. Back in the city, you saved my life. Twice. So: thank you. It will not be forgotten." And with that: the door closed with a click, leaving me back in the silent solitude of my room.
So much had happened, in such a short time. The passed half an hour included. My brain couldn't handle it, couldn't process it. I was new, was I even what I was before? Was I still a Witch? Can I still be a Witch when I am a Vampire? Was what had happened between me and Bethany just using each other? Something told me that was not the case. Or at least, that may have been the case in the beginning, but perhaps she saw it a different way now. Am I an asshole?
A year ago, I could not even fathom falling in love, let alone losing that love, and murdering my first love all in the space of a few months.
There was so much that had happened and yet I couldn't help but experience this daunting feeling that so much more was yet to come. Like standing in the path of a tidal wave, all I could do was watch its monolithic enormity roar closer, and hope that it wouldn't hurt when it over took me.
Life was hard, and it seemed that unlife was to be no easier.
I clenched my fists and pushed myself up from my bed with determination. I would meet this wave head first, and if it would carry me to the afterlife, then I shall face it with enough vigor that my ancestors will be awaiting to catch me with pride. But first I had to face outside of this room.
My hand hesitated on the door handle, which was also painted grey. I could feel the matte texture, the echoes of grooves left by the paint brush, stroking the underside of my palm as I gripped. Taking a deep breath I carefully pulled the door aside, allowing my gaze to travel down the hallway of soft wooden browns and burgundy. The golden filigree of the painting seemed to glimmer and shine with a new light, and rather than cower from their brightness, I found myself enjoying it.
My fingers traced along every surface, every smooth patch of wall paper and wooden table. Relishing in the textures and the feelings that it inspired. The portraits seemed twice as intimidating than they were the last time I had seen them. The leering eyes of their occupants seemed animate, following me as I passed, their expressions looking more like grimaces than disapproving scowls, caused me to shudder.
I could hear echoes of chatter bouncing off the walls, and my ears seemed to twitch involuntarily at the sound. It was almost as if I could pinpoint the exact whereabouts of the noise, and roughly picture the lay out of the room where the sound laid itself across the furnishings. A smile crept across my lips at the undeniable thought of how cool this all was.
However, I found myself freezing at the front door. The silhouettes of the trees, stretching through the frosted glass of the windows, danced like forgotten spirits. The hush of the breeze that poured through them, cooed like a high pitched whine when it squeezed its way through the crevices of the door. It frightened me with the imaginations of its looming presence.
"Come on, kid. I'll walk with ya" The confident voice of Lyra startled me. She chuckled as I jumped like a frightened kitten, slapping my shoulder. Her combat boots squeaked as she rolled on her heels, while she laughed, and my eyes saw Simon, Elizabeth, and Bethany watching from the doorway.
"Only if you're ready, Avery." Simon beamed his cheerful grin of pearly whites, while Elizabeth watched with a hopeful, yet worried, smile.
My resolve strengthened, I gave a knowing nod to Lyra and grasped the door handle, pulling it to the side and I was swallowed by the out doors.
A/N: That's ma boy. Getting stronger and better each day. Thanks for reading.